Damn It, Isco V: Why Write the Series?

Due to some technical difficulties, I hadn’t been posting for a couple of days, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped writing. How can I not continue this delightful little series of Damn It, Isco?

I’m not sure why I’d always say I hate writing and reading, and while we’re at it, speaking, too. Apparently, I am writing this because…well, I like writing. Writing all this is a great alternative to speaking/talking. I don’t want to bore the people whom I talk to with all of this Isco stuff, but the damage has already been done, I believe. And as for the reading, I don’t read too much, if at all. The only thing I would read is my textbooks. Lately, though, I don’t even read those. So as soon as I finish this post, I’m going to read all those articles for my class.

I have been trying to break the no-reading-novels streak and succeeded last night! I finished reading Leaving the Atacho Station. Good book. The author is an Ivy League grad and a poet who had a fellowship in Spain. It was interesting that despite his accomplishments, who believed he was a fraud. So I suppose it is comforting to know that even someone that successful is still insecure about his writing. So, what have I to lose?

It seems like great writers have unique insights. They see things that others ignore. They are blessed with the ability to notice a tiny detail or idea that they can spin into something much bigger. Their long, wordy, poignant work could be crafted from some a small, insignificant idea. I want to be able to do that, too. I doubt that I would ever be a decent writer, let alone a great one.

But here I am, writing away. I have to start somewhere. I’ve been searching for that little idea, some tiny spark that I can ignite into some glowing, alluring, disastrous fire. And I asked myself where, where could I find this little spark? Considering that I am only interested in writing something that I like, this spark needs to be something that I am very passionate about. And then, hey, there’s Isco.

Well, I’ll admit it: there isn’t much that I’m interested in, except for the two F’s, food and football (F for family is important, of course, but I’m trying to think of something more like concrete objects here).

It seems like I can’t speak much about things that I’m not interested in, either. I wonder if people find me boring… But that’s who I am. I suppose this explains why I don’t understand people who can talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, about stupid things. By stupid I mean something random, insignificant, something that’s they are not passionate about, something that even they don’t even care about. If you don’t care about it, why talk about it? I don’t understand and don’t think that I ever will.

Anyway, about Isco.

He is something that’s been constantly on my mind. He represents the town that I want to visit. He represents football. Now he represents my favorite team, Real Madrid. He represents fame. He represents wealth. He represents class. He represents prestige. He represents the good looks. He represents the ideal man. He represents the good life. He represents the stuff of dreams. He represents something -everything- that I absolutely desire but may never have. So I suppose that’s why I’m writing about him. I want to see how much I can spin-how much writings I can create-based off of only one person. I wonder how much I can write about some athlete who lives an ocean away, someone who has no idea that I exist, someone who doesn’t know that I am writing about him.

I guess now I don’t seem like another simple, crazy fangirl, huh? Ok, I’ll accept the term “crazy”. Heck, I’m sounding crazier than your average fangirl right now. I don’t know why but it seems like I always have to explain myself, which is something that I never do verbally. I suppose writing it all out will help me understand myself better. The person whom I owe the most explaining to is, after all, myself. The most important thing in life is to understand yourself and figure out who you really are. If I could do find out more about myself, I think I would enjoy the study abroad experience even more. For one thing, I would be less confused. I hope… I don’t know… Maybe the study abroad itself will introduce me to a part of me that I didn’t know exist. Unfamiliarity will expose all, I can just feel it. Plus, going abroad could sew the gap between me and all of those things represented by Isco as mentioned above.